


2 AM (with coffee)

by vaultbug



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Banter, Character Study, Coffee, Gen, Lessons in Flirting, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:35:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21923776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaultbug/pseuds/vaultbug
Summary: "You are large," Zane said bluntly."And you are skinny," Fl4K responded back with a quiet huff of their vocalizer. "A breeze would knock you over. A creek would drown you. Only your aptitude in combat seems to be the reason natural selection has not come for you.""Is that a compliment? From old beastie?" Zane slid his hand under his cheek and beamed at the 'bot. "Careful FL4K, I might start thinking you like me."
Relationships: FL4K/Zane Flynt, Zane Flynt & FL4K
Comments: 23
Kudos: 260





	2 AM (with coffee)

It was 2.30 AM when Zane woke with his heart in his throat, and only five minutes after when he was able to relax his fingers from their death-grip on the sheets. In his mind sang the sound of flames and laughter, and as he felt along the side of his bedsheets for his hologram’s digi-constructor, he heard their voices, bright and loud in his mind's ears. _Come now brother, are you scared of a little fire?_ They cackled, and he remembered how the coals had hurt. _Come now little velocity, where’s that spirit now?_

He breathed out and slowly dragged himself out of the blankets. The floor was cold on his feet, a steadiness he needed. No flame, no fantasies of past memories. Just here and now in the present. Far away. 

Far away from them. 

Something touched his shoulder, two taps, gentle. He didn't need to open his eye to know it was his digi-clone. 

"I'm alright," he told them as they touched his shoulder again. _Not alright_ , something whispered betraying in his mind but he ignored it. Like everything else it would leave, eventually. 

His clone huffed, but moved away anyways. They went to lean against the wall and watched curiously as he rubbed his hands together, exhaled and looked at the time. 2.40AM now. Definitely too early for the usual nightmare. Readjusting to a ship full of people besides himself, the blue version of himself and his belongings must've been hitting him harder than he anticipated. He doubted he would be able to sleep after a screamer like that one. 

Zane exhaled once more and got up. 

_Early bird gets the worm after all_ , he thought.

* * *

It was quiet in the halls of Sanctuary III as he inched along the vessel. As he passed the dorms, clone trailing obediently behind, he could hear remnants of sleep and noise from each room. Amara’s was silent and Moze prattled, snoring away from her room, loud and uncaring just as she was in day-time. For an odd reason both put a smile on his face and the nightmare hurt a little less. 

He went for the bar. Something in him nagged for a coffee if he was going to stay awake at this time and although Zane preferred a pint to anything else, getting plastered at this time alone was a recipe for disaster. If he recalled correctly Moxxi had a coffee-pot in her bar and since she closed booze supplements around 1 AM at these times, the bar would be free of loiters and drunkards. It would be the perfect place to reflect on nightmares and his life issues, alone. Wonderful. 

He stepped inside the doorway without looking. “You know where she keeps her coffee-tins?” He asked his clone quietly. His clone shrugged, and paused in the doorway. They were grinning but he had no idea why. “Wow, thanks for the help,” he threatened them as they smirked and leaned against the door-frame. “I don’t even know why I bought you, you smug little ass --” 

He brushed something. He looked up. FL4K, shroud in darkness and looming in the black, stared back. 

He about shit his pants. 

“Lord,” he swore and seized his chest. His clone, smug bastard he was, mimicked his heart-attack, collapsed into a faint and then vanished into blue glitches. He would be pissed at them if he wasn’t so busy trying to settle his nerves. “Holy feck, FL4K,” he finally grunted out, “I didn’t even see you there. Does Moxxi know you’re here?” 

Fl4k blinked, an odd click. “It is too early for you to rise.” They noted. 

“And you don’t need to eat, beast-bot.” He took a few wary steps forward towards the booth, heart racing faster than the nightmare. Of course, that just reminded him why he was here and the laughter from being terrified shitless by the beast-bot was sobered. “Ah, mind the company?” He added. “I ain’t going back to sleep anytime.” 

“I doubt I could stop you,” FL4K said and went back to eyeing the coffee machine. 

Eh. He had worse cases of people’s ‘yes.’ He flipped on the light switch - FL4K seemed to glower - and wandered over to the coffee-pot. When it was apparent FL4K was about to keep up their vendetta with the pot and _not_ move, he tapped the counter. “Ay, the machine personally offend you or something?” He asked. “You look like you’re about to vent it out in space.” 

FL4K blinked as if awakening from a long sleep. Then they narrowed their optic at him. “It is none of your business,” they almost snarled and Zane’s eyebrows went up. 

“Ok, yeesh, keep your secrets. Just wondering.” He backed up and went for a newspaper. Fine. He could last until 4AM without coffee. 

It was five minutes when he looked back up to see FL4K still staring at him, optic focused and heavy. “Hi,” he deadpanned as they made eye-contact for another ten seconds. “Is there something on my face?” 

“There is nothing.” FL4K answered back. Poor beastie still had to work on grasping what sarcasm was. “You are still here," they added. "That's surprising." 

"Well, life's a bitch sometimes but I'm getting a head-start on today. You, however, are concerning me." Zane thumbed to the pot one more time. Fl4K only glared at it, which seemed to prove his point more. "Did it hurt your skag or something?" 

FL4K seemed to grimace. "It is a long story," they eventually said and moved to the coffee-pot. As Zane watched they fixed a brew and started the pot. The machine spluttered to life and began to heat up. "A very long one," they seemed to add in attempt to procrastinate answering. 

Zane raised an eyebrow. “Y’see, not everyone wakes up at 2AM to find their fellow crewmate in an intense glaring contest with the local coffee-pot,” he said back dryly. “You got me intrigued. What’s up?” 

“The pot brings back memories,” FL4K said. They did not elaborate. 

“Mmm. You got my full attention now. What memories?” Zane set the newspaper down. The story FL4K presented was much more interesting than the local celebrity drama of the day. Then, on second thought in case the bot tried to kill him for his curiosity he added, “Don’t feel like you need to answer. Just haven’t seen a bot like you...anywhere, really.” 

“You’d be amused to hear where I came from.” Fl4k answered back. 

“Try me.” 

The silence lingered between them, thick. 

“It was...unconventional, how I came to be.” Their voice was quiet, almost a hum. Zane had to strain to hear the subtle melancholy in the robotic synthesizer. “I was -- am still, a designated archivist, a librarian. A _servant_ and was blind from knowing what life really was.” 

There was silence. Zane figured the ‘bot was looking for a question. He took the bait. “A librarian, huh? Thought I recognized your model. Your master happened to be some old coot?” 

Fl4k readjusted, suddenly stiff in the shoulders. Zane had the sudden mental image of himself being punted out the nearest airlock and quickly backtracked. “Not that I know him,” he stammered quickly after, raising both hands. “Just -- heard stories of Indexing Units from there. Zer0, they spoke of an A.I-populated library, back at the old assassin bar. Never met the old man in my life.” 

The shoulders relaxed. Zane stopped triangulating escape routes. Ah, bless his swift tongue. 

“The Grand Archivist was my master, yes.” They said eventually. "I served him and took him orders and made him _drinks,_ " and that was curled off the vocalizer tiredly. Zane took a glance back at how FL4K was staring at the machine and realized the expression they wore was one of exhaustion. 

He trekked carefully with his next question. "How long did you serve him?" 

“Long enough. I regret how long it took me to awake from my slumber.” The coffee finished. As if second nature, without looking Fl4k’s hands went to the coffee-pot and removed the cup. “What do you like in your coffee?” They asked over their shoulder, and it sounded oddly distant, an order from afar. 

Zane floundered. “Uhhh, I drink about anything -- Promethea made a mean german mocha?” He stuttered. 

He just caught the edge of Fl4k’s nod before they began moving and --wow, _they were fast,_ they were _very_ fast at their job. Zane blinked for a second and suddenly a cup of coffee slid his way and was between his fingertips. 

“Hello?” He spluttered and Fl4k made a noise that sounded like the rattle of an engine, yet carried the distinct tone of being _amused._ “Damn, is that how you steal all the headshots? Lordy, you think if I slice off me fingers I’ll get as fast as you?” 

“You can try.” 

“Hm, maybe when I get arthritis.” He raised the mocha to his lips, took a gentle sip. The moan rose from his lips before he could suppress it. 

Fl4k stiffened again. This time it was not because of anger. “I may be mistaken but it is _not_ that good,” the ‘bot exhaled slowly, exasperated. 

Ah, adorable. “Is so.” He slurped with another hearty noise, and did not regret how it burned all the way down. Now one of the beast-master’s hands was clutching the counter in either annoyance or an attempt to not strangle him. He’d take what he could get. With a sly smack of his lips, he gestured lovingly to his fellow Vault Hunter. “Jeesus. Is there anything those hands can’t do?” 

Fl4k sighed. “Do you have shame,” they deadpanned. 

He angled his head and phoneyed his version of a wink at them. (hard to do with one eye but he had _mastered_ the appearance) They turned back around, but he caught the slant of their optic, mirth fluxing over the yellow of their optic. _Aha_ , he cheered silently. Score. 

There was silence for a bit, only punctuated by the quick _mms_ he gave Fl4k’s handiwork and Fl4k’s growing amusement. Or annoyance. He couldn’t tell. “Enough,” FL4K finally said when he drained the rest and gave it the old ‘Zane slaps on the counter’ gusto. 

“Oh, come now I don’t give that performance to every ‘bot. Count yourself lucky, pal.” 

FL4K was spared from answering that. There was a snuff, and then in the bar ran Mr. Chew; the skag made a quick yip and playfully nipped around his ankles. Zane bent down to give ol’ Mr. Chew a nice pat on the head. Mr. Chew huffed happily and licked a stripe down his boot to thank him. 

“Oh, that’s a good boy, that’s a lovely boy,” he cooed. That was too much praise apparently because the skag waggled his tail and that was the only warning before he yanked at Zane’s boot. _Skags can pull cars behind them with how strong they are_ , his mind’s voice reminded him, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Amara. _Thanks brain,_ he shot back, and recalled that tidbit very well as he fell down on his ass and got a face-full of Mr. Chew. 

Still. He couldn’t complain. He wasn’t being mutilated and actually, Mr. Chew was adorable despite all the teeth. He laughed and continued petting the skag. 

He didn’t realize Fl4k’s optic was trained on him until he looked up to see the beastmaster watching over him, hushed. “Something the matter, beast-bot? Am I about to die?” He sniped up at him and Mr. Chew licked a stripe down his ear. He snorted and attempted to bat the skag down. 

“You are an oddity,” Fl4k said, blunt and to the point. They knelt down next to him and that’s when Zane’s brain reminded him that previously an archivist or not, Fl4k was built _large_ and hands that currently had joined him in spoiling Mr. Chew could also probably tear his spine out. Ah, well. Zane was always one for flirting with danger. “I’ve never seen one so willing to pet Mr. Chew before. Have you befriended skags before?” 

“Slag no. Too busy getting scars from ‘em.” He snorted, patting Chew under the mouth. Chew practically threw himself into his lap and he toppled backward into Fl4k’s steady body and laughed, delighted before continuing to scratch the skag. “I just like this one.” 

Fl4k hummed. That was unfair, Zane thought as the skag licked him. He could feel it right through his augmentations and the shiver it caused...he ignored it by going back to Mr. Chew. Man’s best friend, always the perfect distraction. 

He snorted. “Anyways, why you think I befriend skags? That’s your job, ain’t it? Ain’t about to steal your title, _beastie_.” 

“That’s good to hear, _operative_ ,” they deadpanned back. “Stick to your clone.” 

“I’ll have you know he’s a perfectly tame, entertaining digi-clone programmed for _all_ purposes.” _Also_ _an asshole. A smug, handsome asshole._

“Lonely much?” 

Zane snorted. Mr. Chew leapt from his lap and he mourned the loss of skag. Then he remembered he was drenched in the skag’s spit and didn’t mourn it so much after all. “How easy is it to get skag spit out of clothes?” He asked Fl4K, feeling the ‘bot move back to allow him to get up. “Please tell me it’s easy. Please.” 

“Good luck.” FL4K snorted. “I find digi-constructing new outfits easier.” 

Aw, and he was starting to wear this shirt in. Oh, well. FL4K put a hand down to haul him up and Zane took it gratefully. "Well now I stink like you," he jeered back. "People might think things if I smell like this." 

FL4K must have the patience of a saint because they ignored his innuendo again. "Likely not," they remarked. "You organics lack the senses to even detect stench that diminutive." 

"And you bots lack the ability to understand _skag_ _smells_ _real_ _bad_." Zane took a whiff of himself and huffed. "I smell like that time I took a dive in that ol' dumpster for Dahl. Now that was a job." 

“Boring job, perhaps,” FL4K said. 

Zane turned to them. “Are you saying I am a _boring_ man?” He gasped back, half-fucking with them. “That I take only _boring_ jobs because I am a safe, boring man? I doubt you could do what I can.” 

“Who is the one who holds us up against the Children of the Vault?” FL4K said back dryly. 

“Who is the one that chases the bandits towards you while you stand there, a big target?” Zane hadn’t bantered like this in quite a while. He found he liked it, ignoring the whole ‘covered in skag spit and pointing a finger in the direction of FL4K’s optic’ part. “I am the _back-bone_ of this team.” 

“Your back can hardly hold yourself up, nevermind the team.” 

“You don’t have bones, quiet.” Zane raised his hands over his head. “You callin’ me old, kiddo?” 

FL4K’s optic flickered again. “If we’re counting mentally, no.” 

“Ouch.” He leaned forward and half-whispered, conspiratorial, “I’m not actually that old, yanno. About 40 something, give or take. And you?” 

“It has been a while,” FL4K replied. They then paused and dryly asked, “So, was Moze correct? Do you color your hair grey?” 

Zane about choked on his spit. He flubbed, then hacked, then came up towards the ‘bot with burning ears and a smile as large as it was dangerous. “So it's _appearances_ you want to piss on now?” He snorted. “Two can play at that game. I have been waiting a long time to say this, kiddo.” 

FL4K crossed their arms. “Go on.” They threatened. For them, it was quite casual. 

“How many bandits sneak under your legs?” He asked. 

“How many times do we have to wait for you to catch up with us?” 

“You got rats in your pockets or you burn diesel as your fuel?” 

“It is just one rat,” FL4K answered. “I will not answer what my fuel is.” 

“So diesel.” Zane paused then added, “Have you ever considered the possibility Mr. Chew likes you is because you resemble a highly-murderous chew toy?” 

“Have you ever considered that everyone around you _knows_ you wank off to your clone?” 

“Yes.” He waited for a reaction, got none, and so blurted out his last ‘insult’. “Vladof rifles are not the only good rifle,” he informed. 

FL4K straightened and exhaled. “Vladof rifles have more a personality than you’ll ever have, Flynt.” They punctuated the end of his name with a snap. 

“Oh, _man_ ,” Zane cackled and fell back against the counter as if shot. FL4K watched and their posture turned amused just for a second. “Low blow, low blow. Good with sniping literally and emotionally, ain’t you brutal?” 

“I crave murder.” They paused and eyed his burning ears. Zane had half the mind to cover them. “It seems emotional murder is also satisfying.” 

“Aw, piss off.” 

They were silent then. Zane sat back down on the counter and thumbed the empty coffee cup FL4K had given him. FL4K leaned back against the counter and Mr. Chew settled at their feet. Sanctuary III slept on, undisturbed. 

He couldn’t resist one last jab at the ‘bot. “Seriously, though, there are other rifles.” 

“None else have the same crack to them.” FL4K paused. “Jakobs comes close,” they begrudgingly added. 

“Same crack to them –pssh, next you’ll be saying the best noises of death is the poetic _wisp that leaves the prey’s mouth_. Every rifle’s got a crack. You’re just --” and he gestured up and down the ‘bot. 

FL4K blinked. “Elaborate,” they insisted. 

“You are large," Zane said bluntly. 

"And you are skinny," Fl4K responded back with a quiet huff of their vocalizer. "A breeze would knock you over. A creek would drown you. Only your aptitude in combat seems to be the reason natural selection has not come for you." 

"Is that a compliment? From old beastie?" Zane slid his hand under his cheek and beamed at the 'bot. "Careful FL4K, I might start thinking you like me." 

FL4K blinked. Then they scowled. “So why are you up?” They retorted. 

Zane paused. He gestured vaguely, then figured _ah, hell_ , it’s FL4K. The bot didn’t seem like the gossiping type. He could spare the truth. “Have you heard of Captain Flynt and Baron Flynt?” He asked back. 

FL4K considered. “I have recollections, yes.” They leaned over the counter, a very human like move. Zane realized they were mimicking his movements and briefly wondered how many other movements they had taken off of him. “Maya mentioned them.” 

“Ah, yeah. Well...not too hard a guess but those two were.” He shrugged. “Family. My older brothers, in fact. Bunch of arsehats.” 

“By the sound of your voice, this is not a happy family story,” FL4K deadpanned. Still, their attention did not fluctuate. A good listener then. Zane hadn’t met much of those these days. 

“Shit no. Ideas of fun in my childhood was dodge the blowtorch and other wonderful fire-related obstacle courses. Didn’t always have such a handsome face, you know.” 

FL4K gestured and took the cup from under his fingers. Zane let them. 

“Yeah. I have...nightmares, about ‘em sometimes.” He said finally. FL4K shifted but said nothing. “God, back when I was ten -- you’d think your older brothers wouldn’t push you on coals, but...well, it’s just a good thing I could digi-construct myself back together.” He gestured vaguely. “Course, when you’re dirt poor on Pandora you don’t always come through with all the body parts you had before.” He tapped the side of the eye covered with the cybernetic. 

FL4K did not say anything but raised their hand to his cybernetic eye. He did not flinch but as their digits touched the healed wound from forever ago, he almost trembled. Almost. “It has healed nicely,” they rumbled. 

This much contact? Too much for ol’ Zane. He broke the contact, pretending his heart was not racing. "Yep," he grinned back and clapped his hands together. They both flinched at the noise and he opted not to do that again. "Anyways. That's why I'm up. Not as tragic as you but hey, this ain't no dick measuring contest. I doubt I'd size up anyways." He tried the joke just to lighten up the room and steer it away from him. FL4K didn't need to hear all the shit piled on his plate. 

It worked. FL4K's optic narrowed. "You've been flirting," they noted, but there was an underline of uncertainty in their voice now, some hesitant tone that made Zane think, ah, flustered. "You'd be disappointed to know I am not yet well-trained in the art of...seduction." 

"What, your pursuit of Ellie not working for ya?" When FL4K did not respond, Zane pressed. "That bad huh. Well, ol' Zane here can give you some tips." 

"I am almost afraid of where this is going," FL4K snarked. 

"No, seriously. Seriously. Scout's honour. I will only give good tips." Zane beat his chest twice as if reciting a quotation to a cult. To an outsider it might've looked like he was about to dive headfirst into the Children of the Vault. "Alright, let's start with basics. Does she know you're interested?" 

"Are you serious -" 

"Humour me, humour me. So let's say hypothetically she knows. Then you wanna let her get interested in you, you know? You wanna present yourself as interested but not...overdone." 

"You are a hypocrite," FL4K said. 

Zane snorted. His SNTNL bot chirped, _gottem_ _!!!_ , and the operative swatted at his pocket playfully. "No, listen here. You wanna be yourself, but also put that interested out. Like me! I'm always my best because I am the best, and I'm always interested if morally applicable and legal." 

"Please stop." 

"Ah, already in character." Zane shot them again his show-stopping, one-eyed wink. "Now, try it. Pretend I'm Ellie. Lay the moves on." 

FL4K stared. "No," they eventually rejected. 

"Oh, spoilsport." Zane raised his hands. "Come-on. Lay the moves. Give ol' Zane the what for." 

"You would know if I'm flirting." FL4K replied back. 

"Is that not the point of flirting?" 

Boom. Headshot. FL4K narrowed their optic. "Your personality is charming," they gritted out. 

_Ugh._ "No, no. That sounds like you're about to wrestle a bullymog. Flirting is like," and then he put on the old Zane charm, the one that had him slip his way into a few beds and corporations, “ _Your personality is charming._ You see?" 

FL4K paused. "This is ridiculous," they snorted.

"Come onnnn," Zane groaned. "We're both bored here beastie, you might as well join in."

FL4K hesitated for a lengthy amount of time. Zane kept his grin plastered to his cheeks as the ‘bot eyed him, most likely considering wringing his neck or chucking him out of the window. Claptrap’s ass would not be big enough to save the ship that time if FL4K did do that, he figured.

“You,” the bot finally said, gazing off into Moxxi’s piano, “Are a complete nuisance yet I cannot find it in my chassis to strangle the life from you.”

That was...oddly romantic for the bot. Yet it did not match up with their conversation. Zane raised his eyebrows. “You sure that’s right, beastie? Or we sure your eye is only on Ellie?” He teased.

Except it wasn’t teasing, at least not to FL4K. They made a noise like the grinding of a subspace engine; harsh and heated, lingering in their chest as they eyed him. Overheating, then. Zane had seen it in a few robotic models in his days.

Wait. Overheating.

“Oh, shit.” He realized out-loud. FL4K grunted and turned away. “No, wait – woah, hold on now. Who’s it for?”

FL4K had clammed up though, and now the ‘bots posture was icy. “I’m forgetting this ever happened,” they said and probably meant _you should forget it too._ Zane did not want to. “Quiet down. You will wake the ship.”

“Jesus, who cares – who was that meant for? Rhys? Vaughn? Uh, Brick???” He began listing off names of those who FL4K found irritating, loud or both. When FL4K did not respond he began listing off random names. “Lorelei? You’ll be competing for him, definitely with Zer0 – and I know it’s not Zer0 – even though Zer0 seems your type, you got a thing for murderers?” As he advanced FL4K turned around, waving him off. “Oh, come-on, there’s no one else who annoys you, other than _-_ ”

And then FL4K snapped around and pressed him against the counter, around the same time a little voice in Zane’s head said _oh w_ _ait,_ _me._ The ‘bot pressed against him - all edges, tall and their engine snarled - and Zane thought; _ah fuck._

“Are we done here,” they snapped, quiet. Their engine thrummed with their words.

“Are we, beast – beastie?” He stuttered. He hadn’t choked on his words for a long time. _Ah, fuck,_ that voice echoed louder.

The optic narrowed again, a thin slit. “You and your nicknames.” FL4K growled back, frustration and humour present in their tone. One of their servos came up to tilt his face. He let them, purely out of shock and purely because he figured he’d lose his chin if he tried to resist.

“Infuriating, huh,” he started, trying low and subtle but instead his voice deepened. A biolight on the side of FL4K’s helm pulsed along with his voice and in that moment he felt a shift of power from FL4K to him. Something in him stirred from slumber, forgotten and _famished_.

“Vexing,” FL4K reinforced. Their digit rose and caressed under his bottom lip, gentle. Zane was pretty sure his knees were going to give out.

(and right about when the question was going to come out – _is it me?_ )

Moze crowed. _“_ Wow _-ee,_ are we interrupting something?”

They both snapped back, Zane nearly falling over the counter. He was lucky to stay on his feet only because his clone finally decided to spring to life from his pocket and yank him upright. Amara and Moze stared from the doorframe, Amara a picture of confusion. Moze, the little shit, was grinning ear to ear. Looking down he noticed how disheveled he was from Mr. Chew. Great. This was not helping his case against Moze's implications.

“I thought you guys were sleeping,” he accused.

“I was. Then I heard someone yelling ‘aren’t you a good boy’ down the corridor and I was awake.” Amara said.

Moze nodded along, still smirking, and stared past him to FL4K who had returned to the coffee-pot mute. “Are you sure we weren’t interrupting anything?” She taunted, and her voice was sing-song.

That was cue for his exit. “Nope! I was just heading back to bed.” His clone waggled their eyebrows at her and he yanked the blue hologram violently by the ear. They disappeared into blue flakes back into their constructor. Moze’s smile became more sinister. “I’ll be going now. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight?” Amara questioned.

“Goodnight,” he furiously ended and marched down the hall.

* * *

His clone popped back up before he wrestled himself into bed, eyes shimmering with delight and a wickedness he wondered had been programmed in. They propped their hand under their chin and floated there, cross-legged. They did not leave.

“Well,” he told them, “That was something.”

 _And what are you going to do about it,_ they seemed to snicker back.

 _Good question_ , he thought and laid back.

The clock read 4AM.

**Author's Note:**

> halfway through this it became a lot more tension-filled than i intended SO. here we are =')


End file.
